


Et somnia manes

by CabiriaMinerva



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Death in Childbirth, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Historical Inaccuracy, Hurt/Comfort, Love, True Love, ghost story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 12:03:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16449584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CabiriaMinerva/pseuds/CabiriaMinerva
Summary: "The Queen is dead. Long live the Queen."If he needed to drain his all reserve of brandy to soothe his pain, then be it. Nothing meant much any more, anyway. Not the brandy. Not the money. Not even what was left of his life.[Written for the **DARK VICBOURNE FEST** and the Facebook group, "For the Love of Vicbourne".]





	Et somnia manes

 

**Et somnia manes**

 

 

 

 

_Love is an echo..._

Sleeping at Last, _Hearing_

  


_The Queen is dead. Long live the Queen._

Dead.

In childbirth.

Lord Melbourn sat, devastated, on the dormeuse in his study.

Dead.

Young Victoria had become Queen only minutes after her birth. Prince Albert would be regent until her eighteenth birthday, of course.

But the Queen was dead.

Not any Queen.

_His Queen._ A woman he had loved – a woman he still loved in the secrecy of his own house.

She had offered him her heart, once, and he had refused it, refused her. He wasn't worthy, could never be worthy of her. He had told her she should be married, insisted that she would never be truly happy alone, even with _companions_.

Surprisingly, she had listened to him. Well, she had also fallen in love with her cousin Albert, so that had helped. But she had married him, stabilised the Crown, given the United Kingdom the perfect family to look up to.

And then she had fallen pregnant. Everyone was so excited. He too had sent her a card, some words of congratulations. But he knew, he had always known that she was afraid of childbirth. The faith of her aunt Charlotte had had a great influence on her.

So he now sat on the dormeuse on his study, sipping brandy in the shadows, trying to drown the guilt. For he somehow felt that had he not refused her, had he not told her that she would not be happy without a husband, then maybe... maybe...

He drained his glass and blindly searched for the bottle. When he found it, and found it empty, he cursed.

He wanted to drink himself to death, to stop the ache in his limbs, in his head, in his heart.

_Dead._

_My Queen is dead._

A creaking sound diverged his attention.

«I said I am not to be disturbed!» he croaked. He hadn't talked much since the news, and his voice sounded alien even to him.

When no one answered, he took in his surroundings. _Of course, there is no one there. It is well into the night and I've dismissed all the menservants. I must be imagining things._

The servants were in their chambers, and they had probably been asleep for hours. Lord Melbourne had lost the sense of time, and only now realized that he was, in fact, immersed in darkness.

Another crackle distracted him.

_Maybe I am really going mad._

_Or maybe,_ a voice in his mind reproached him _, the rational explanation is that the house is old and thus sometimes settles._

_Yeah. That must be it._

He tried to raise from the dormeuse, if not to light a candle, at least to find another bottle. Preferably, still full.

If he needed to drain his all reserve of brandy to soothe his pain, then be it.

Nothing meant much any more, anyway. Not the brandy. Not the money. Not even what was left of his life.

When he got to his feet, he felt his knees buckle and fell down again on the dormeuse.

_Great. I'm an old, drunk, hopeless man._

Putting a hand on the armrest, he tried to compose himself before trying again. Breath in, breath out. The movement had nauseated him a little. He run a hand over his face.

Then, a faint light in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

_Good. First I'm hearing sounds, now I am seeing lighs._

He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them with his fingers.

But when he opened them, the faint light was still there.

Maybe someone had entered the house without him noticing? He turned to tell whoever the intruder was to leave and let him be, but what he saw stole all the words he had on the tip of his tongue.

_I am going mad._

His heart skipped a beat. Maybe two, even.

On the furthest corner of his study, right in front of his library, stood a figure.

Pale.

Translucent.

_Am I hallucinating? I've heard of people doing so in the depths of their grief, but..._

The figure slowly turned, noticing him for the first time.

«Lord M?» Her voice was faint and he saw his same bewilderment mirrored on her face.

He swallowed. «Am I dreaming?» He run once again a hand on his face. _I must be._

Maybe the heartache had been too much for him, for his sanity.

«Lord M?» she repeated, and her voice was slightly steadier this time. Her appearance as well was becoming somehow more stable, as if he was bringing her into focus. Or maybe she was doing it all by herself.

«Your Majesty?» His hands were now gripping the armrest so tightly that his knuckles had become white. He wasn't easily impressed and he had never thought himself a superstitious person. But this, this... «Your Majesty, is that really you? I... I must be dreaming, for sure.»

«I...» She lowered her gaze on her hands, startling a little. She turned them, palms up, then palms down. Slowly, studying them. Then she raised her eyes to look at him. Even in her... _condition_... her eyes were of the purest blue he had ever seen. «I don't remember coming to Brocket Hall...» She looked around, taking in the surroundings, then resting her gaze on his dishevelled appearance. «Lord M, what has happened to you? Are you well?»

Her tone and her expression were so sincerely concerned that he _knew_ , as mad as it sounded, that it must be her. It must.

For no dream nor hallucination could ever recreate the perfection of her. Not even an alcohol induced one.

«I cannot say that I am, Ma'am.» He let go a breath he didn't know he was holding.

«Are you ill?» She sounded alarmed and made a few steps towards him.

Then, he pinched himself on the forearm. _Just to be sure._

«Lord M!»

«I apologise, Ma'am. I was just checking if I was still awake.» His voice was so formal, so placid, and the situation so absurd... he felt a laughter bubbling in his throat. But then he noticed the lost expression on the ghost of the woman in front of him – for now that he had crossed out _dream_ and _hallucination_ , that must be the only explanation – and all of his questions, all of his confusion lost their importance.

His Queen, the woman he had loved more than anything and that had given him a reason to go on, needed him to be her rock. And it didn't matter much that the woman in question was now... well, a ghost.

«Maybe you would like to sit down, Ma'am?» He gestured to the armchair in front of him, still unsure whether his feet could be trusted and thus preferring to remain seated.

_Can she even sit down?_ He briefly wondered. But then she took some more steps and gracefully sat on the armchair. _She can all right._

«Ma'am... Do you know what happened? Do you... remember?» he tentatively asked her.

«I... I must admit, I am fairly confused, Lord M. But I am so happy to see you, it has been so long.» The look of affection that emerged on her face felt like someone took his heart in their hand and tried to crumble it. Succeeding.

«Indeed it has, Ma'am, but...» He was torn between various feelings: the rational side of his brain kept telling him that _this just isn't possible_ , but the voice of his will was roaring: _take her into your arms and comfort her! And then never let her go, who cares what she is now, she will always be your beloved Queen._ And yes, a small voice in the back of his mind also told him to _just run, for Christ's sake!_

The latter was easier to ignore – what harm could she do to him? He was already old, and death would have been most welcomed in any case.

Without even thinking about it, he stretched and took her hands into his. Strangely enough, they weren't cold, as he had expected, but quite warm. Almost electrical. She wasn't of flesh and blood, not any more, but still there was a consistency to her.

«Ma'am...» He looked straight into her eyes. «What is the last thing you remember?»

She frowned a little, thinking. «I think... I think I was at the Palace, in my chambers.»

«Do you... Do you remember being pregnant?» He tried to be cautious, but he also wanted her to remember.

«Oh, yes! I was pregnant, how could I forget something like that? I was...» She bit her bottom lip. «I was having contractions. Such a dreadful thing,» she grimaced.

«Indeed, Ma'am. What then?»

«It hurt. It hurt like someone was trying to rip me open from the inside. I was so scared.» She looked at him. «And then...» She frowned. «I gave birth to a girl, but I was so tired, Lord M. So tired. I closed my eyes to rest and everyone kept screaming, but I really wanted to rest. And then...» Her eyes widened and her perfect lips formed an _O_ of surprise. «Oh.»

He lowered his gaze.

«I died. I was dead.» She stared at her hands once again. « _I am dead_.»

«I'm afraid you are, Ma'am.» He smiled a sad smile, squeezing her hands in an attempt to comfort her.

«I should feel sad, I suppose.»

He looked at her quizzically. _I don't know, I've never met anyone who was dead, after all._ «I... don't know, do you, Ma'am?»

«I am not sure, Lord M.» She sighed. «Of course I am sad to have left my daughter behind. I was never really fond of children, but she was my daughter. And Albert. Poor dear Albert. He will mourn, I am certain,» she said in a small voice.

«Yes, Ma'am. He is profoundly grieved.»

«He will overcome this as well. And he will be a great father to our little...» she left the sentence hang.

_Of course, she doesn't know her name._

«Victoria,» he completed her sentence. «The baby has been named Victoria.»

The Queen smiled. «Of course.»

They paused for a while, both thinking, trying to make sense of the situation.

«I think... I think I remember something more. There was a darkness waiting for me. It was peaceful, it was...» She pursed her lips in concentration. «But I refused to go. I couldn't go, not yet. They've let me stay, they said I could stay a little more to...» She flushed. As much as a translucent ghost could flush.

He briefly wondered who _they_ were, but said nothing yet. One thing at the time.

«What, Ma'am?»

«I remember now. I don't know how I could have forgotten it.»

«I am no expert, Ma'am, but I think that what happened to you must be a great shock.»

«Yes, yes. But this...» She looked at him so, so tenderly. «I couldn't go without you. I thought... Please, don't think poorly of me. I loved Albert very much. He was my husband and I married for love, you know that. But when I died and I started to go on I realized...»

«Yes, Ma'am?» He was even more confused now. _Why should I think poorly of her? She is perfection, my sun, my Queen._

She took one hand from his and rested it on his cheek. He swallowed at the feeling of it.

«Once I told you that I shall never forget, and I was most sincere. I never forgot. I loved my husband, but I had given my heart to you and it never came back. Not whole, at least.»

He opened his mouth to say something, but all words escaped him. Was she saying what he thought she was saying?

«I couldn't move on, or whatever one does in such a situation. I simply couldn't. I reasoned with them, told them that I wouldn't enter the darkness, as soothing as it was.»

«Them, Ma'am?» The question couldn't be postponed any longer.

«Yes, the voices. I said that if this was the only way I could be with the man I had loved most, even if just by watching him without ever being sensed... I would do it. I would take my chances.»

«I... you...» He didn't know what to say to this wonderful, strong woman who had argued with... something, the voices, maybe Death itself, just to spend more time with him. «But you said I am not supposed to see you?»

Her expression was now serene, as if remembering what had happened had erased all confusion and bewilderment. She smiled, lovingly. «They said that they would make an exception, given the circumstances, and they've allowed me to visit you and to be seen.»

«What circumstances?» he asked hoarsely. But somewhere deep inside he already knew the answer to that question.

«My dear Lord M. _William_.» Hearing his name on her lips was bitter sweet, like honey poured on a fresh wound.

She turned her hands, taking his. Her grip was soft but determined. «I think you know already.»

He lifted a hand on his chest, carefully. She nodded and tears started to trickle down her ghostly pale face. Still, she smiled.

«I thought it was just heartbreak, Ma'am. For your loss. For...» He sighed. He was somewhat aware that he should feel terrified, that he should scream and hold on to life with all the strength he had left. At least, that would be the rational thing to do.

But he had lived long enough, lost enough. And there she stood, the woman he had loved and still loved, the only one who could make sense of him when all sense was lost.

And she had come to take him with her, to spend eternity together in a peaceful slumber. How could he be terrified of that? Of her?

«It was heartbreak. I do not comprehend it fully myself, but apparently you already had a weak heart. You've had it for a while now. And my death...» She moved a thumb on his skin, soothing him. «Well, let's just say that I was almost relieved to discover that you still cared so much. I thought maybe you had moved on, maybe you forgot. Maybe you didn't love me as I did you. It is selfish, I know. But I was.»

«Never, Ma'am. I would never forget you!» His tone was almost offended. _Here I am, talking to a ghost whose duty was to notify me of my impending death, and the first thing that I can think of is to get offended as such a notion. Brilliant, William. Absolutely brilliant._

«I know, William. I do.»

He took some time to process all the information, then he asked, «So... what now? Do I die right now, or..?» _Is there a polite way to ask something like this?_

«I'm afraid I do not know for sure. I only know what they told me. But I will wait here with you, my dear William. And then I'll accompany you to a place where there is no Crown, no duty to rule our decisions, our lives. Well, our non-lives, as it is.»

They smiled, then. As happy and free as they never could have smiled when she was alive, his Queen. Now, they would only be William and Victoria, no more Queen and Prime Minister, no more fearing the scandal, no more sacrificing themselves to unjust duties.

  


*

  


He was found the morning afterwards, reclined on his dormeuse, his skin still faintly lukewarm. On the table there were some empty bottles of brandy, and scattered around the study all the letters he had received from his Queen. He had kept them all, even the most frivolous or shallow.

Emma was the closest of his connections, and was thus the first to be called. She insisted upon seeing him. Her poor, heartbroken William. Dead only two days after the Queen. She had feared that losing her like that would let the life that was left in him slip through his fingers. And so it did.

But looking at the calm expression on his still face, she found some consolation at the thoughts that maybe, hopefully, they were now reunited. And she felt a warmth at the thought, and the tears stopped streaming down her face. Almost as if she could feel the two figures slowly fading away in the half-shadow cast by the thick, dark curtains.

«Do not worry, she will be well soon. She was a good friend to us both, Emma,» she would have heard one of the figure say, if only she could have perceived them.

«Yes, she was,» the other ghostly figure said with a small smile on his lips. «I think she knows we too will be fine.»

«So we will, William. So we will.»

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ghost story, I think, so I apologise if some elements of it were missing or inconsistent with the genre. I must admit I really liked the change of scenery, and who knows, maybe I'll try and write something similar one day or another. I'm usually reading vampires or gothic stories, not writing them, but one never knows...
> 
> In any case, thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and please feel free to leave any feedback :) And if you haven't already, I suggest you read the works for the Dark Vicbourne Fest, as they are truly magnificent!


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